Watch Over You
by MoreThanWants
Summary: So, this was supposed to be a fluffy little one-shot. Instead...well, you'll see. Regina and Roland fluff and established Outlaw Queen. Teen, just in case. Thanks to LeFemmeChevalier for being such an awesome beta.
1. Chapter 1

Something was wrong. Regina's brow creased as the feeling tugged at the edge of her consciousness. She shifted in her sleep, trying to get comfortable again, but the tugging persisted.

Then, a soft cry came from down the hall. Roland. She was up and out of bed, yanking on a robe and racing for the door. Down the darkened corridor she saw the door to the little boy's room open, the light of the candle he insisted on sleeping with when Robin was gone flickering madly. The crying continued, and she could make out calls for his father amidst the sobbing.

"Roland!" she murmured, going to his bedside and sitting him up, pulling him into her arms. "It's alright, sweetheart, it's alright. I'm here. It was just a dream."

"Don't let the Shadow get me, don't let the Shadow get me!" the boy wailed, tears streaming from his tight shut eyes. "Papa!" He burrowed into her side, wrapping his arms around her waist and sniffling. Regina rocked him gently back and forth, whispering comfort and reassurance into his hair. Her mind flashed, unbidden, to one of Henry's first nightmares. She'd lain awake with him until nearly dawn, holding him close and promising him repeatedly that she'd never leave. Never leave. Well, just another promise broken amongst the countless others.

She imagined the warm weight of his little body against her chest, the way his hair slipped easily through her fingers; how he would get as close as he possibly could to her, sometimes wrapping one leg around hers. And she would hold him just as tightly, murmuring and humming in his ear and stroking one finger down his forehead to his nose, telling him to close his eyes. "Be still and be quiet, I'm here…."

"I want Papa," Roland's tiny voice snapped her back to the present, to the frightened boy in her arms. Not Henry, but Roland. He sniffed again and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"I know, sweetheart, I know," Regina replied, stroking his back. "He'll be here soon; in time for breakfast I think!" she added brightly, pulling back just enough to get a look at his face. Damp and red-streaked, but no more new tears. She thumbed the remaining tears away, smiling softly.

"You go back to sleep, and he'll be back before you know it."

"I can't—what if the Shadow comes to get me again?" He clung tightly to her even as she tried to shift away.

Again? "Roland, have you had this dream before?" Regina sat back down and let him lean on her.

He nodded shakily and replied, "Whenever Papa goes away, I'm afraid the Shadow will come back to get me, like it did at the window. And—and, it'll get me, because Papa isn't here to save me."

The Shadow. Pan. "You mean the Shadow's been for you before? How did—" Wait. In Neverland, during one of the quieter moments, Neal mentioned using somebody to get it to take him…. Realization struck her like a ton of bricks. That bastard. If he weren't Henry's father, she'd want to kill him. Still, even though he was….

"Roland, look at me." She turned his chin to face her with one finger under his jaw. "The Shadow is gone, destroyed, okay? It can't ever hurt you again, I promise. Do you think you can go back to sleep now?"

The little boy mumbled a shaky affirmative and scooted back to lie down. "Regina?" he whimpered as she went to rise.

"Yes, Roland?" She brushed a strand of hair behind his ear before tucking his covers around him.

"Will you stay with me?" His little words brought tears to her eyes and she gently traced her finger along his cheek.

"Of course, sweetheart. Just give me one moment." Regina rose quickly as the little boy snuggled deeper into the blankets and went to the door. She'd sensed another's presence outside and wasn't surprised to see Michael, one of the men who stayed behind to guard the Castle.

"Get a message to Robin; tell him he needs to get here before breakfast," she whispered, and the man nodded and quickly disappeared.

Back in Roland's room, Regina lay down next to the little boy and pulled him close. He snuggled into her side and she squeezed his shoulders. "It's alright now, I'm here," she murmured, and felt him nod a little in reply.

Suddenly an idea struck her and Regina sat up against the small wooden headboard. "Roland, watch." Her fingers traced a pattern on the wall above his bed, and after them followed shimmering lines of magic. First she drew a circle, then within it, a crisscross of thinner lines, and finally three long lines trailing from the bottom.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked, watching his eyes fill with sleepy wonder at her trick. He shook his head, little mouth hanging open, and she added, "It's a dream catcher. Look." And Regina pried the pattern from the wall, holding the thing in her hands.

"The ancients used these in their homes to keep the bad dreams, and the spirits within them, away, while letting the good dreams through." She lifted his hand to touch the glimmering dream catcher, smiling as he did. "They hung them over their beds, just like this one will hang over yours."

"It's pretty," he said, all fear of his nightmare gone.

"It is." She pressed it back onto the wall, but it retained its three dimensional shape, three trailing strings fluttering gently in the breeze from the cracked window. "And it will serve as a reminder that I will always watch over you." Regina pressed a kiss to his forehead and slid back down to lay with him cradled against her chest.

"Now, close your eyes, and go to sleep. I'm here."

Roland yawned and his eyelids drooped. "I love you, Regina," he whispered, and went limp against her.

A tear slipped out before she knew what was happening. "I love you, too, Roland," she whispered into his hair, and closed her eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, with Roland still curled comfortably against her, Regina woke as the door creaked. Michael poked his head in, beckoning silently to her. Her brow creased, mind still muddled by sleep, but she disentangled herself from the little boy, kissing his hair as he shifted, and joined the Merry Man at the door.

"Somebody t' see ye, Milady," he whispered, and for one absurd moment, she thought, _Will I never convince these men to stop giving me titles?_ Then she saw just who that somebody was.

"Robin!" He was dirty and drooping and trail-sore, but they were in each other's arms and everything was right in the world. She went up on her tip toes and kissed him, laughing a little as he pulled her even closer and curled his hand into her hair.

It took Regina a moment to notice the smell permeating the hallway, and half a second longer to realize it was coming from the man in her arms. The man who currently had one hand in her hair and the other wrapped around her waist.

Her eyes flew open and she pushed away from him, ignoring the mildly hurt but curious look in his eye. Robin started to say something, but she cut him off. "Robin, you stink! What the hell were you doing?"

His eyebrows flew nearly to his hairline, and a devilish sparkle showed in his tired eyes as he replied, "Well, _dear_, that's what happens when one rides through the night, one gets a little sweaty." She scowled as he used her signature term of endearment and he smiled.

"A little? You could supply a lake! And did the horse throw you and you land in a compost heap?" She waved a hand in front of her nose and coughed a little for good measure.

"No, as a matter of fact, it didn't," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I just had to cut through part of the Swamp to make it here sooner, that's all. Because _you_ called me home." he added.

They were standing quite close now, Robin bending slightly at the waist to meet her glare for glare, and Regina couldn't help but smile inwardly. No matter how bad he smelled, or how sweaty he was, he was hers, and that was enough. "Indeed I did," she agreed, voice dropping an octave. "And I'll have you know that I am quite glad you're back, Robin."

"How glad?" he matched her tone and leaned a little closer, just enough to make her glance down at his lips.

Then Michael cleared his throat and ruined the moment. Her face wanted to burn in embarrassment, but Robin's arm around her waist steadied her. "He'll be awake soon," the man whispered, a good natured smile creasing his face.

"Yes, the message said something about Roland." Robin's eyes sparked with worry but Regina shook her head.

"It's alright. He had a nightmare and called for you. Come here." She took his hand and went to lead him into his son's room. "Bring us breakfast in bed and I'll make whatever you want for a week!" she added conspiratorially to Michael as they passed. The man chuckled and nodded quickly, once again disappearing down the hall. The Merry Men had learned quickly of Regina's abilities in the kitchen, not that (many) of them were brave enough to ask for something outright just yet.

Roland was splayed across the bed, looking for Regina or his father even in his sleep. She couldn't help but smile as she slipped back under the blankets, drawing his curly head into her lap and winking quickly at Robin. Shaking the little boy's shoulders gently, she murmured, "Roland, sweetheart. Wake up."

He groaned and snuggled closer to her legs, keeping his eyes firmly shut.

Regina smothered a laugh and looked up to see Robin squelching one of his own behind a gloved fist.

"Come on, honey, it's time to wake up," she tried again, tousling his hair. He was lying with half his body across her legs, and she wiggled them a little for good measure. No change.

Robin crossed to the other side of the bed, winking at her with sparkling blue eyes. He eased into the bed next to his son, and Regina heard the little bed creak dangerously at the weight of its charge plus two adults. He slipped both hands under his son, flipped him onto his back and tickled him around the middle. "Are you gonna wake up and see me or what?"

"Papa!" Roland exclaimed, eyes flying open. He giggled uncontrollably as his father tickled him, laughs turning to shrieks of glee as Regina joined in, catching his little feet in her hands. He kicked away, scrambling upright in his father's arms to hug him around the neck.

The father buried his face in his son's neck, and Regina's eyes clouded with tears _yet _again_._ _That's it_, she thought, smiling unashamedly,_ I've gone soft._

_No, not soft,_ a quiet voice said. _Loving._ Her smile only grew.

Suddenly Roland reared back from Robin exclaiming, "Papa, you_ stink_!" He pinched his nose shut with two fingers and continued in a slightly higher voice, "What did you step in? Bear do?"

Robin chuckled and shot a glare at Regina, who raised her eyebrows and said, "See? I told you."

"Well," Robin made a big show of gathering a wiggling, giggling Roland into his lap before continuing, "after I went to see Old Man Barnaby, I was on my way to Wyrren's when I got a message saying I was needed at home; something about missing breakfast." His brow furrowed theatrically.

"And?" Roland prodded him in the ribs, eager for more of his papa's latest adventures.

"_And_ the only way to get from Wyrren's house to here quickly is through the Swamp," his father said simply. "So I did. I went through the Swamp." He looked down at his son and smiled. "The end."

"But Papa, why do you stink so bad?"

"Oh, that!" He seemed to have completely forgotten the fact that he reeked enough to curl his own stock-straight hair. "I met up with the Swamp Monster, is all. Went a couple rounds with 'im, I guess you could say."

Roland's eyes widened as Regina tried not to roll her own. She saw nothing wrong with telling the little boy stories, but sometimes Robin was too much an actor for his own good. "Really? Did you beat him?"

Robin threw his arms wide, sending a fresh wave of stink into the room. "Would I be sitting here right now if I didn't? Of course I did, boy. You wanna know how?" he added, fixing his son in a fierce blue stare.

"Yeah!" Roland clapped his hands excitedly.

Robin sat back and crossed his arms, for which Regina was incredibly grateful as she was finally able to chance a breath. "Maybe later. I'm more interested in what the message had to say."

The little boy's brow creased. "What's inter'sting about a message?" he asked, and Regina had to smile a little at his pronunciation. "Can't you just finish the story, Papa? _Please?_" He wrapped his arms around his smelly father, taking no shame in begging.

"Hey there, boyo," Robin said, pulling back from Roland's grip. "More on that later. What's this I hear about you having nightmares?"

His little eyes clouded for a moment, but then the boy smiled and said, "I did have one, but Regina came and stayed with me and made me that!" He pointed to the dream catcher mounted on the wall above his bed. The glimmer had gone, fading into a polished sheen on the bent wood of the circular frame and sparkles of sunlight on the webs. The three streamers still waved a little in the breeze. He looked to her and added, "And she said it meant she'd always be watching over me. She said the ancients kept them in their houses, and…."

The little boy prattled on contentedly as his father met Regina's eyes across the bed. _Thank you,_ they said, and she smiled, _You're welcome. _ She leaned forward as he did and their lips met in a tender kiss.

"You're squishing me!" Roland bellowed in his tiny voice, pushing against both their shoulders as they laughed and broke apart.

"But can you blame me?" Robin exclaimed, gesturing at her.

The little boy studied her for a moment, and Regina tried not to laugh as his face scrunched up around the edges. "No, not really," he said after a moment, sending both adults into fits of laughter; so much so that Robin almost fell backwards off the bed.

A throat cleared itself at the door, and three heads snapped around at the sudden scent of toast and eggs. Regina could almost see the water gathering in Robin's mouth. "Breakfast is served," Michael announced, raising the laden tray.

"But I thought you said we couldn't eat in our rooms, Papa," Roland looked at his father questioningly and wiped his curly bangs from his eyes.

"I think we can make an exception, just this once," Robin said, beckoning Michael forward. He took the tray and the Merry Man bowed slightly—at her, Regina noticed, still a tad bothered by it. But, old habits die hard.

As Roland feasted on his eggs and fresh milk, Regina drew Robin to the doorway for a more private talk. "Why don't, before we eat, you go and get changed out of those clothes? They really are awful. And take a rest, Robin, you're falling asleep standing up!" She took one arm in her hands, trying to support him even as he slumped towards the wall. He looked pale, she noted, with dark circles under his eyes and beads of sweat beginning to form on his forehead.

"How far away were you when you got the message?" she asked quietly, guilt beginning to knaw at her stomach.

"About half a day's ride," Robin yawned, the mirror of his son, and Regina felt sick. She shouldn't have made that promise to Roland, shouldn't have told Michael to hurry Robin home, shouldn't—

No. She would never regret anything she said to that little boy, ever. He trusted her completely, and she owed it to him and his father to trust herself. But, she'd been…not exactly right in making Robin hurry home over a nightmare that was already almost handled, so she had to make it right now.

"Okay. You go and get freshened up, I'll keep Roland from eating all the toast, and then we can all eat together and not have to worry about the smell upsetting our stomachs, " she added, pushing him none too gently from the room.

"Isn't Papa going to eat with us, Regina?" Roland asked as she turned back towards the bed.

"Of course he is, sweetheart, just as soon as he gets into some fresh clothes; he was dirtying up your bed!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

When Robin returned, soiled shirt changed for a fresh new one, muddy trousers and boots for softer leggings and moccasins, and beard freshly trimmed, he found his son scarfing down everything in sight and Regina carefully hiding several slices of toast under a napkin.

"You certainly look better," she commented, flicking a look at him through her lashes as Roland jumped off his bed and ran to hug his legs.

"Thank you," he replied, giving a dazzling smile—well, it would have been, to anyone else but her. To her it was just another "move" as she called them. He started toward the bed before she stopped him with a raised hand.

"Ah ah! You have to pass the smell test first. Roland?"

The little boy made a big show of sniffing his father's legs, and Regina's smirk turned into a smile of her own as he turned back to grin at her. "He smells _way_ better, Regina! Can he eat with us now?"

She eyed him a moment longer, eyes crinkled just enough at the edges to give her a real stern look before she relented, saying, "I think so."

He sat down at the edge of the bed, taking a couple pieces of toast from beneath the napkin and stuffing them all into his mouth at once.

Regina rolled her eyes. "You could choke yourself doing that, you know."

Robin grinned as he swallowed and took a swig of milk before replying, "I thought you said I had a big mouth?"

"That wasn't a compliment," she snapped, but the effect was ruined as her lips quirked in a smile.

He chuckled and reached for the plate of eggs, half emptied by Roland. "Depends on how you look at it," he quipped. "I happen to think—

"_Robin,"_ Regina exclaimed, eyes locked on his arm. A scarlet blotch marred the sleeve, growing wider every moment.

"Ah, that, well…" He tipped towards the edge of the bed, dizziness making the room spin erratically.

Regina caught him by the collar and laid him back against the headboard. "Roland—"

"Papa fell asleep," Roland giggled in a loud whisper.

Regina tried to smile, but guilt clogged her throat and twisted at her heart. _Your fault,_ a vicious little voice snarled in the back of her mind. _Your fault._

_Yes, and I'm making it right,_ Regina thought, and knelt beside him to hide the view of the blood from Roland, saying, "Yes, he's very tired. It was a long night for him. Can you go get John for me, Roland? He can't stay in your bed; he's too big!" She smiled as the little boy nodded and jumped out of bed, running as fast as his legs could carry him, calling for his "N'uncle John".

As soon as he was gone, she turned back to Robin, shaking him. "Robin. Robin, wake up!"

She stripped his shirt off, trying to resist swatting him as he grinned when she bypassed unbuttoning it. "Shut up. Why didn't you tell me you were hurt? Why didn't you go to John, or dress it yourself?" She shredded the clean shirt with a flick of her mind and fashioned a rough tourniquet over his arm. "What the _hell_, Robin!"

"For wanting me to be quiet, you ask a lot of questions," he muttered, eyes flickering open.

"Shut up." She cleaned the wound as best she could, forcing herself not to think about the man attached to the other end of the bloody arm, already dark and discolored without proper medical care. It was one of the first things she'd wondered at when they all returned; how on earth were they to protect themselves from infection without "modern" medicine, after twenty eight years of living with it every day?

"Really, Regina, it isn't that bad," he said, free hand clutching at her nearest elbow as she worked. She jerked it away from him with a glare. "I've had worse," he added, more quietly.

"And men have died from less," she hissed, tying a bandage tight around the now partially dressed wound. She synched the knot perhaps just a bit too tight—_He deserves it,_ she thought bitterly—and Robin sucked in a pained breath.

Seeing the debonair persona drop from his face, if only for a moment, tugged at Regina's heart. For even with all his male pride, his "Prince of Thieves" swagger, his _arrogance_, he was still her Robin. Hers. And no damned cut was going take him away from her. Gaze softening, she brushed back the dark blond hair that had flopped over his eyes.

"Let's get you another shirt before Roland gets back, I—"

"Papa?" He sounded so scared, so very small, and Regina's eyes filled with tears as she turned to see his face covered in fear. John stood with a hand on his shoulder, holding him close. His own face was lined with worry. "What…what _happened?"_

"It's alright, son, I'm alright. Just a few bruises is all." Robin beckoned to his son, and John released him, letting him scamper to his overfilled bed and bury his face in his father's neck. Robin held him close with his good arm, turning his head to whisper in his ear. The boy's little curly head popped up, and Regina could almost see the curiosity in his eyes, hear the whispered question, "Really?" as Robin launched into another fateful tale of monsters and mayhem and good besting evil. Or at least muddy. She tried not to roll her eyes too much.

Regina joined John at the doorway, letting them have their own moment alone so she could speak to the mountain of a man more or less privately. "I'll need you to help me get him to his room; he can't stay here," she murmured, eyes never leaving the bed.

"Of course," Little John rumbled. "Did he—"

"I haven't gotten the chance to ask," Regina knew the answer to the question before he could even ask; they were quickly becoming friends, the half-giant and the Queen. "But I will, as soon as we get him settled and rested."

John nodded, and went to kneel by Roland, dwarfing the boy even on his knees. A few quiet words were exchanged, and Robin reached out to tousle his hair before the big man scooped the little boy up and walked him back to Regina.

"You look after this one, an' I'll get the other littl'un," he grinned, and she couldn't help but smile back as she took Roland in her arms and held him close.

"I heard that, you great brute," Robin grumbled from the bed, making John chuckle. But he raised his arm as best he could and let himself be lifted into the air by his best friend. "I'll get you for it, too, later."

"Uh-huh," John replied, still chuckling as they left the room.

"I want to stay with Papa," Roland whimpered as Regina set him down, going to her knees before him. A tear leaked from his eye and she brushed it away with a knuckle.

"I know, sweetheart, but he needs to rest. He'll sleep for a little while, and then maybe we can have lunch with him in _his_ room, how's that sound?"

"Like a better fit," Roland giggled, grinning as his father's wit appeared.

Regina laughed. "Alright, then. You play in here for a little while; I'll be around to check on you every now and again, but I'm going to keep an eye on your papa for right now. Okay?"

Roland nodded, but tears started to well in his eyes again, and she pulled him close. "He's going to be alright, sweetheart, I promise." She kissed the side of his head and rose.

"Why don't you draw him a picture?" She waved a hand and parchment and colored ink appeared, complete with matching quills. "You can put it on the lunch tray."

"Okay!" He sprawled out on the floor, taking the bright red quill and immediately dipping it in the blue ink bottle.

Regina smiled, and softly pulled the door to.

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry it took me so long to update this; I've been really busy doing stuff out in the real world. I'm back to writing now and I hope to be updating much more regularly; perhaps every week, though it might take a while longer sometimes. Anyway, thanks to all you awesome people taking the time to read my stories and thanks to LeFemmeChevalier for being an amazing beta and bearing with me.


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